Ms. Entitled Loses Her Title!

-
With the air of Cleopatra,  
She strolled—  
Head held high,  
Balancing a Kohinoor-laden crown  
Only she could see.  

Neither the Kohinoor  
Nor the crown  
Had ever been seen by another.  

"I'm a princess,"  
She would squeak,  
Trying to sound  
Like royalty—  
Yet no one had heard of her kingdom,  
Nor the king  
Who never was.  

She tiptoed across the room,  
Treading on feet,  
For her little golden toes  
Were never meant to touch the ground.  

She would pause,  
Glancing over her shoulder,  
Signaling those pitiable souls  
To lift the train of her dress higher—  
Lest it brush the floor.  

To her, love was  
A mere fantasy.  
The only love she knew  
Was for herself,  
And for her sake,  
She would dare break any heart. 

Always with her footmen,  
Always with her court,  
She believed they were born  
Only to serve her,  
Bound in unwavering loyalty.  

Sweet words dripped from her lips,  
Honey-coated and alluring,  
Drawing all the attention  
She endlessly craved.  
Yet they were empty—  
Devoid of depth,  
Devoid of meaning.  

Years passed,  
Yet she never changed…  

Until one day,  
She fell—  
Deep into a dark abyss,  
Alone.  

No footmen.  
No chariot.  
No invisible crown.  

There, in the shadows,  
She found an old, worn-out mirror.  
With horror,  
She gazed at her reflection.  

"Oh! Where is my crown?  
Where is my cape?" 
She shrieked.  
"Where have my loyal footmen gone?"

"Calm down," 
The mirror spoke gently.  
"I will ask a few questions.  
Answer them truthfully,  
And you shall find your way back."  


"I am not obliged to answer!"  
She snorted.  

"Then here you shall remain," 
The mirror replied, unfazed.  

"Ask away,"  
She said angrily.  

"Who are you?" 
Asked the mirror.  

"I am the princess of Nothingland!"  
She declared with pride.  
"I did not ask about your lineage.  
Who are you?" 

"I am the most beautiful woman in the world!" 
She boasted.  

"I did not ask about your appearance.  
Who are you?" 

"Do you know how wealthy I am?"
She scoffed.  
"I have a fancy job  
On a fancy street  
With a fancy paycheck!" 

"I did not ask about your possessions.  
Who are you?"

"You will pay for this!"  
She raged.  
"Don’t you dare—"

"I did not ask for threats.  
Who are you?"  

"Do you think I am insane?"
She snapped.  
"Why would you do this to me?"

"I did not ask for your judgment.  
Who are you?" 

Silence.

Tears welled in her eyes,  
Trickling down her face,  
Washing away the pride,  
The false ego,  
The illusions she clung to.  

She sobbed and sobbed,  
Until all that remained  
Was raw, unfiltered truth.  

Finally,  
She lifted her gaze,  
Her voice quivering—  
"I'm just human.  
Nothing more,  
Nothing less." 

The mirror gleamed in the dark,  
Glowing with wisdom.  
It seemed to smile.  

And with one final crash—  
It shattered into pieces.  

She stood up,  
Stepping toward the shards.  

And for the first time,  
She saw her true self  
Smiling back at her.  

From that day on,  
She wore no crown,  
Claimed no title.  

For she was no longer...  
Ms. Entitled.


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